Dreaming of You
by Sweetiedee
Summary: Sam Evans is a visual artist that becomes fixated on finding the woman in his recurring dream. He believes she is a masterpiece waiting to be created. The problem is he hasn't a face or name to go on. Disclaimer: I don't own glee or anything that belongs to anyone else.
1. Mustard on a Hot dog

The slender, raven-haired, tanned skinned, green-eyed beauty barely made it through the foyer before Sam was sending her packing. She was the latest in a string of rejections. "I've had it up to here," he said gesturing over his head. "Get Jesse St. James on the phone, NOW!" He demands.

A rattled Rachel scurried to her desk to place the call. "Hello, Jesse St. James please. Yes, Rachel Berry from Sam Evans Studios." She nervously traced the scar on her face as she waited for the temporary receptionist to patch her through.

"Hi, Rach-face. How are you?"

"I'm well Mr. St. James. How are you?" She hated that she had to engage in pleasantries with the man, and she despised the pet name he'd given her. It seemed like a mockery to mention her face. As though he was poking fun at her disfigurement, and she wanted to punch him in his face. She held back her disdain hoping he would move on. He was a busy man, so how is it he found so much time to disturb her? "Yes, thank you. I'll send you through to Mr. Evans. Good day, now."

"Wait-" Jesse called out but, it was too late. She had already dropped the call.

"Hey, Sam. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Cut the crap Jesse. You know what you did!"

"You asked me to find a figment of your imagination, a brown woman that looks good in Mustard. I delivered several times over. Hell, I even scouted from the chubby pool. You keep sending them back. I granted your wishes and received a slap in the face for my efforts."

"No, this isn't what I asked." Sam paused for a beat heavily breathing trying to compose himself. "I'm unreasonable? No, you promised me a Bronze Goddess to paint. This lot has me thinking of going in a different direction." He listened a minute more. Maybe, he needed a new talent scout because this wasn't working out. "Anything would be better. Right now, I'm contemplating painting mustard on a hot dog. It would be more appealing. That at least sounds appetizing." He frowned when his assistant interrupted offering him a plate of mixed fruit. "Yes, my stomach growled. Ignore IT. UGH!" He mashed the end call button unable to hear a second more of the man's excuses. "I'm going out for lunch." His assistant gestured non-committedly towards the lavish spread on the break room table. Dismissing the gourmet meal with a huff, he added, "I'm not in the mood for stuffy food." He walked the open floor plan of the shared space headed for the elevators.

"Do you need me to make a reservation? What are you in the mood to eat?"

"Hot dogs, of course." He threw over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around.

Sam stalked across the courtyard fuming over these incompetent fools. They had served him up more of the same knowing his muse required something different, new, fresh, exciting. He was happy the line quickly dwindled because his stomach was roaring at him. He had been wrapped up in completing the picture, and he couldn't focus on anything else, not food, sleep, or painting. It was becoming a serious issue. Just as he made it to the vendor, there was loud commotion behind the line. His nosiness got the better of him ordering a double dog with mustard before filing out of line once he had it in hand.

"OH HELL TO THE NO! YOU DID NOT STEP ON MY FEET, KNOCK DOWN MY HOT DOG? Really? YEAH, JUST- UGH- WALK AWAY!"

Sam was frozen still mesmerized by the woman dressed in purple running gear. She was small in stature, curvy, and gorgeous. He took her perfect Bronze complexion cheek covered in mustard. She would be the perfect candidate to model for his painting if he could get his jaw off the floor and his legs to work.

"Excuse me- Miss?"

She rounded on him with fire in her eyes. "What- I mean-" She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and stilled her hands before trying this again. "What a jerk?" He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Not you- HIM!" She pointed towards the tall, broad-shouldered figure fading into the distance.

"Here, have mine," he offers, placing the hot dog in her hands without waiting for her to accept. Do you have a moment? I want to talk to you about an art modeling opportunity. You are- Wow." She'd stolen his thoughts, his words, filled in the missing portion of the portrait. He circled her frame marveling over her peaks and valleys. The image was etched in his mind, and he needed her in the dress posing as his living model. No other would do.

Thoroughly engrossed in ogling every inch of her, he missed her nervously biting down on her hot dog. She was in shock. It was the only explanation for not socking this man in the eye, she thought. Her expression and body language said it all, but he was thick, dense, or maybe mentally ill. That's it, she internalized. There has to be something wrong with him. He brushes the back of his hand over hers, and she jerks away.

"Well, I would suggest you feed me first, but I guess you have. Ugh!" She returns the hot dog to him mustering every ounce of willpower not to throw it in his face.

"You're the perfect shape to birth my baby!" Sam said thinking aloud. She raises a hand to slap him, but he catches her wrist before she connects. "No, that came out wrong. I meant to say you're the girl of my dreams. Sorry, No. I'm Sam I am, and I don't like green eggs and ham. He couldn't believe how much of a bumbling idiot he'd become since running into her. I'm an artist, and I'm looking for a living Model to pose for a portrait I'm painting. It's my new project, and I think of it as my baby. I just meant you would help me birth my dream. I'm rambling, sorry."

She hadn't said a word which left him wondering if he had gotten through to her. His eyes follow her line of sight landing on her wrist, and he realizes he's still holding on for dear life. As soon as he lets go, she stalks off in disgust. When she notices him following, she breaks off into a run. He starts to give chase but backs off for fear of doing more harm than good.

After a few moments, he picks up the half-eaten hot dog stuffing it into his mouth. There, your mouth is full so you can't open it and stick your foot inside, he internally chastised. Learn to be subtle. He continued mentally kicking himself as he made his way back to his studio.

 **A/N: It's been a while. MyHiggins25 asked me to do a story surrounding Amber's IG post in this Mustard Dress. Here we go. Let me know if y'all like this. Should I dump it and start over?**


	2. In my feelings

**Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites. Hopefully you all will enjoy this chapter. *fingers crossed***

"Don't tell me not to fly I've simply got-" Rachel was cut off from her song and dance performance when she ran smack into Sam. "Ahem, sorry. Umm, that was quick," Rachel said breathily trying to regain her composure. She takes a deep breath then slips back into work mode. "Mr. St. James sent over five headshots, and I think there's one you should take a look at- She seems perfect." Rachel was bouncing up and down with excitement until she saw his sullen face. "What's wrong?"

He barely glanced in her direction looking like a scared, wounded puppy before shoveling a handful of grapes into his mouth. "Can't talk chewing." His explanation was almost indistinguishable muffled by the mouthful of fruit. He snatched a tray of food and scurried into his studio.

* * *

Kurt came bursting through the doors screaming like a maniac. "MERCYJAAAAAAAAAY!" He squeezed her hard plantings kisses on her face. "Thank heavens you're alright. We could've lost you. From now on, Blaine or I will go on your walks with you. Your life was in danger. I told you about that courtyard.

Mercedes rolled her eyes at Kurt's antics. "Stop it, Kurt. You are just extra for no reason. It wasn't that bad. Really."

"Why are you so calm? Did you take a Xanax? Is there more?" He grabs her purse rifling through in search of the calming pills.

"No, stop, don't!" Mercedes grabs for her purse, but it's too late.

"Diet my fanny! Empty Candy wrappers! You lied! Shame on you!" Kurt chastised.

"You know how I stress eat!"

"And, why were you in the courtyard? *gasp* The hot dog stand! How am I supposed to get in shape and keep my man if you won't help me?" Kurt said feigning tears.

"Hey, itches!" Santana sang as she strutted into the room smiling like the cheshire cat.

"Hey," Kurt says hesitantly. "You're remarkably chipper today.

Santana was wearing a black bodysuit and carrying a black duffle bag over her shoulder. Her long hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

"Seriously, Santana?" Mercedes couldn't finish her question because she was outdone.

"So, it's Halloween, and you're Catwoman?" Kurt said stone face.

"HA- HA- HA," She deadpans rolling her eyes and running her hand down the length of her ponytail. "We are going to pay this guy a visit. Here," she added tossing them each a catsuit. Now, tell me everything you know."

"We are not paying him a visit, and I told you everything I know. Stop, Kurt. Put your shirt back on! We are not wearing these crazy outfits."

"He has to work in the area. We could go down to the local 7 Eleven and buy slushies to throw at him as he leaves the office. No, we could follow him to his car get his info come back tomorrow and put dead fish in his hubcaps."

"We're not in high school anymore. We're big kids now. They will arrest us, kay," Mercedes chimed.

"Fine, we could follow him home break inside and download a virus on all his computers. Better yet, we could steal his porn collection."

"San, you're crazy! And, don't forget, I too was in the courtyard and don't work in the area."

"Fine, these are just my warm-up exercises. How about we dress as clowns and chase him around the lot after dark?"

"Kurt, get your friend."

"You guys suck. You're no fun at all." She pulls out the laptop typing in Sam, artist, Ohio into the google search engine. "Umm, what did you say he looked like?"

"Tall blonde, but not bleach- like a dirty blonde or maybe sandy brown, green eyes, full lips."

"Well, how long were you staring before you ran off?"

She playfully popped Kurt upside the head, "Don't try it. I had to make sure I got a good look just in case."

"Yeah, mmm. Just in case-"

"Did he look like a Millionaire?" Santana asked cutting their playful banter short.

"He was dressed in jeans and a white Tee. I don't know."

"HOLY MOTHER OF GAGA! HE COULD TOUCH ME ALL OVER! I CAN FEEL GOOD ALL OVER! That man is FINE!" Kurt exclaimed.

Mercedes walked over to have a look and swallowed audibly. That's him, Sam Evans, huh?!"

Santana reads aloud, "Sam Evans is an American artist and business owner. A child protégé that has grown to become a success in his own right. Joined the Avant-garde Visual Artist when he was 15. His last painting sold for- " She couldn't finish her statement due to the shock.

"So, he was looking for a model?" Had she been mistaken? Her mind was reeling.

"Okay, start over and speak slowly," Santana demanded.

* * *

"Sam, Jesse is on the line. He wants an answer as to which models to send on Thursday. He says he won't send anyone without a confirmation from you first," Rachel explains.

"I'm Painting."

"No, you aren't. These walls are glass, you know? You've just been sitting in front of the easel for an hour staring. Now, it's time to look at the photos and pick a model.

"Cancel them all! My career is over!"

"Excuse Me?"

He plops down on the floor like a three-year-old ready to throw a tantrum then lays very still."

"Listen, you're going to find her. She's out there. It starts by looking at these photos, this photo!" He refused to take the photo from her. "Do I have to call Alexa?"

He shews the picture away unbothered by her threat. "This got me in my feelings!"

"PLAYING DRAKE, IN MY FEELINGS!"

"ALEXA, STOP!" They shout in unison.

"You sure you don't wanna change that?" Rachel asked. He continued staring up at the cloud covered ceiling. Rachel sighed before plopping down on the floor tucking her legs underneath her. "What's this all about- I mean really?"

"I'm defective."

"You are not."

"I found her and lost her in the same breath."

"Melodramatic much?!"

"No, it was bad. I may have reverted back to high school before I dropped out."

"You didn't?"

He looked her in the eyes and smacked his teeth. "I did, quoted my favorite poet, Dr. Seuss. I may have inadvertently asked her to birth my baby, and by may, I mean I did. Also, is it assault if you grab someone's wrist to keep them from slapping you?"

"You went into the wrong field. You should have been an actor. It could not have been that bad?"

"Oh, it was worse. No way she believes I was genuinely offering a job!"

"More like offering her sex."

"Stop it. I wasn't!"

"You're attracted to her."

"I don't want to date her. I just want to paint her."

"See, Comments like that will get you slapped with a restraining order."

"You know what I mean?"

"I do, but does she? You can't expect everyone to automatically get you. Don't worry, you'll find someone who looks like her, and it'll turn out perfect."

He let out a chuckle mocking the absurdity of her statement. "No way God made two."

"Are you quoting lyrics again?"

"She's one of a kind."

"Dear God!"

"Ever since I saw-"

"SAM!"

"Okay, but I've never seen anyone like her." He continues laying there quietly with his hands over his eyes.

"Welp looks like the crisis is over. I'm going back to work, and I'll just leave this here."

When he heard the click of the door, he sat up resting his head on his knees. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees her staring back at him with those doe eyes, like a deer in headlights. Maybe, he could try to find her, apologize to her, make it right. What are the chances of that? With hope slowly fading, he picked up the picture from the floor and gasped. "RACHEL! Crap, soundproof glass. He jumped up storming out to her desk. "This has to be a joke or an act of God because this is the woman I saw in the courtyard."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. I mean there is something different in the eyes. Maybe it's the lighting, or my mystery girl has an adorable twin. I don't know, but have Jesse send her over as soon as possible. Hell, today if possible. Wait- I need to work on my apology. How does $40 an hour sound? No, $50, 50 per hour, dinner, movie, a house in the wilderness!"

"Are you crazy?"

"Yes! I need to complete this project. I need to sleep through the night without that tortures of this recurring dream."

"Alright, I'll tell him to send her over."

* * *

 **A/N: Is Mercedes a model? I guess we'll find out in the next chapter. Don't forget to Review, follow, and favorite. Thanks again and Goodnight!**


	3. Mystery Lady

**Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites. I hope you enjoy the next chapter. Have a great night.**

* * *

A shadowy figure drifts closer until brown eyes meets green. The details of her face poured in slowly until the mystery woman was complete, smiling before Sam, and what a gorgeous smile it was? He studied the beauty before him committing every detail to memory, from her Cupid's bow down to the faintest mark on her forehead. He wondered what the story behind it was. Had she fallen off her bike? Was she roller skating in the park? Did it hurt? The thought of her in pain pained him, and he focused his attention on something else. The bend and twirl of her hair blowing in the wind were enough to settle his spirits.

The colors began to pop. There were clear blue skies with the sun shining brightly. The light caught her light brown eyes, and he swore it was his reflection staring back at him. He skimmed the length of her bending over her curves. The contrast of colors compliments each other in an unexplainable way. He took his eyes off her for a brief second to gather his palette and brush, but she turned around. "Wait- - STAY!" He said chasing after her.

"Ahhhh," Sam shouted as his body collided with the hardwood floor. A stream of expletives followed from Sam's lips in response to him bumping his head on the adjacent nightstand. His alarm clock started beeping at him like an impatient person honking their horn, and he felt near tears. He tried to turn it off, but it toppled onto the floor narrowly missing his head and shutting itself off in the shuffle. Finally, he managed to get up off the floor and onto the bed without injury.

Placing his hands on his head, he contemplates why life was being so cruel? What had he done to deserve all this, and what could he do to atone his sins? Then he remembered the dream and that his mystery lady would be coming in today to talk to him. His lips turned up into a grin and like that his mood had lifted. He skipped towards the shower so that he could get dressed for the day.

Lately, Sam would loiter in his apartment until Rachel was in the office, or wait until Alexa walked through those doors before heading to his studio, but today, he found himself heading up early.

His thoughts drifted back to the mystery lady in mustard and the lady from the courtyard coming together to make his dreams come true. She is gorgeous with her full pouty lips and matching feisty attitude. She was a force pushing him into another direction. He didn't know whether he was coming or going, but he did know he wanted her along either way. She continues to dominate his thoughts as he prepares his supplies and sits in from of the easel.

He sketches lightly on the canvas happy he'd gotten thus far. He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as he concentrates on the smooth, swift strokes of his sketching pencil. He had visualized concepts and the overall project, but couldn't visualize the details until he stumbled upon her greatness. She has to say yes. Everything was riding on it, and he would do whatever it took. He was armed with an apology and wasn't too proud to beg her to take this job.

* * *

Rachel entered the office humming a tune every bit prepared to get things opened up. To her surprise, Sam was already in the studio working. Usually, she would leave him to his work, but she had been thinking about the situation all night. Pulling open the doors, she headed into his space interrupting his flow. "Good Morning, Sam. How did you sleep? Are you excited? Your mystery lady will be here soon. Have you worked out what you're going to say? What if it's as bad as you said, and she doesn't accept the offer? Although-"

Rachel's voice faded into the background as all the worries flooded in settling again in his spirit. She wasn't helping him calm down, and he wondered if her word vomit had rubbed off on him. Nah, he couldn't blame her for his issues, but it sure would answer some questions. Like, why did he become a rambling fool when he was in the presence of this mystery woman? He'd lost all sense of boundaries and just plain ol' good common sense. Like keeping your hands to yourself no matter how inviting someone seems.

"SAM! Are you listening to me?"

"Umm-"

"Okay, I'll just leave you to it. Wait! Was that the elevator?" She asked half out the door. "She's here. How do I look?" Rachel asked.

"Rachel!" He chided but went no further.

"Actually, that's a good question." He brushed past her to glimpse himself in the mirror. Luckily, he hadn't started painting as of yet, so his hands were free of stains. He washed them, dried and moisturized his hands, ran his fingers through his hair, and straightened his dress shirt and slacks. He'd forgone the tie wanting to balance his professional with comfort. He hadn't dressed this much for any of the other potential models, but for some reason, he wanted to stand out a little more.

* * *

He felt a knot in his belly as she sauntered into his office wearing a mustard colored dress like all the others. Only, she looked like the woman in his dreams. Suddenly, the knots unraveled, and he took a deep breath. "Hello, I'm Sheila. How are you, Mr. Evans?"

"Hi, I'm well, and you?" He shook her hand before gesturing to the seat in front of the table.

"I'm fine. I'm excited about this opportunity. I admire your work."

He turned beckoning to Rachel, "Would you get Sheila some water? Thank you." She felt the dismissal but wasn't sure why. As soon as Rachel was out of earshot, he started in. "So, Sheila is it? A lovely name. Do you have any siblings?"

Her face scrunched a bit as though she thought the segue into her personal life was odd but quickly answered his questions. "Yes, I have a sister and brother."

"A sister? Does she look like you?"

"Umm, yes. We're related by blood." She replies tone dripping in sarcasm.

"Are you a twin? Do you have a picture?"

"No, she's younger by 15 years."

"I see. Do you have a cousin, young aunt that looks exactly like you?"

"What's this about?" She asked standing from the seat he'd offered.

"I ran into a girl— A Woman. She was definitely a woman that looks the spitting image of you."

"You mean black and plus-sized?"

"No, I mean cute button nose, soft brown eyes, high cheekbones, full lips, and rich brown skin. Yes, she was curvy and black, but she also looked like YOU. I've never come across one of you. Now two, on the same day—"

"Maybe God is trying to tell you something!" She said waving both hands in the air.

He stopped mid-thought picking up the phone and sending a message. "I'm not crazy or a bigot, and I'm going to prove it to you!" He sent a message to the head of security to pull the surveillance footage from their meeting in the courtyard.

* * *

They huddled around the desk watching the situation unfold. "HA," Sam shouted as they watched the building surveillance camera footage.

"Okay, she does look like me. What the hell? Is this the parent trap? Wait! That doesn't make sense. I'm calling my parents this instant! Excuse me!" She stalked out the glass doors with her phone plastered to her ear.

Sam fell back in his chair defeated. He was no closer to finding the mystery woman today than he had been last night.

Rachel felt sorry for him. He could be a pain sometimes, but he had a heart of gold. She watched him for a moment not daring to speak. It had been her wish that Sheila was the woman from the courtyard. She could tell he was already hung up on her, and she couldn't resist a real-life romantic tale. He dreamed up the masterpiece of his career, and she desperately wanted it to come to fruition.

Rachel nearly jumped out of her skin when Sam leaped from the table declaring, "I HAVE A PLAN!"

Before she could ask, he stalked out the room.

Sheila was hanging up from a phone call when Sam stormed past her. "Excuse me. Mr. Evans, may I have a moment?"

He stopped briefly, "I apologize for the crappy interview, and I will pay you for your time today, but-"

"I don't get the job." She finished before he could deliver the bad news.

"Unfortunately, I'm looking for someone else."

"It's fine. I'll get the next one. How many people can say they got paid to attend an interview? I must be the ish!" She said lightning the mood.

"Yes, the full six hours. Rachel will make sure to get you paid. Best of luck. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a mystery lady to find."


	4. Just My Imagination

**A/N: Hi guys. Thanks for all the follows, Favorites, and Reviews. I appreciate each one. I forgot to mention the face claim for Sheila is Raven Goodwin. You guys probably already knew that, but I figured I should add for those who don't. Forgive errors, and I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Mercedes took the air enjoying her walk with Santana heading to the restaurant to meet their friends. They parked a few blocks away opting to commute instead of paying the ridiculous price for valet service. She stopped to admire the Azalea flower bushes. "Aren't they lovely?" She turned to Santana expecting a response, but Santana merely rolled her eyes. Mercedes playfully swatted her shoulder chastising her for being a sourpuss.

Santana checked her nails before repeating her earlier question that Mercedes had left unanswered, "What are you going to do, Mercedes?"

"San-" Mercedes calls but doesn't finish. Instead, she cuts her eyes in Santana's direction before checking her mentions. She responds to a few messages and places her phone back into her bag.

"San, what? I know you didn't think that was all it took to silence me. I still want to know."

"You've asked a million times, and I keep telling you, NOTHING. I'm not going to do anything about Sam's offer. It technically wasn't an offer, not really. Besides, he's rude. "

"Seriously?" She paused for a moment returning the glare she'd received moments earlier. "You're seriously going to stand there pretending you're not in the least bit curious about this situation -hmpf-. You aren't that great an actress because it's written all over your pretty face."

Mercedes rolled her eyes continuing to walk down the street unbothered by Santana's jabs. She was trying to get a reaction out of her, and she wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of seeing her sweat. "Look, it's Saturday let's enjoy brunch with Kurt, Sebastian, and Blaine and forget about all this craziness."

"Not a chance. How are we going to brush aside your discovery? Who knew you were a model?" Santana cut her eyes with her tone laced with sarcasm.

"Shut up, San."

"Got artists chasing you down these regular streets begging to paint you, like the freaking Mona Lisa, and you're talking about forgetting it, HOW? What you need to do is go to his job saying, yes Mr. Evans, I'll take it," she added raising her phone like a paddle at a bidding war.

"Why are you like this? I'm happy with my career. I'm not chasing some fantasy of being famous and seeing my name in lights especially if it's because of some man's work." She waves her hand before adding, "Uh, yeah, she was the subject of Genius Artist Sam Evans' Vision. Nope, I'm happy where I am."

"I know you love teaching. Hell, I do too. I think it would be cool to see you hanging in a museum." She pauses in front of her sweeping a stray hair from her forehead, "You're gorgeous."

"Aww, thanks, San. I am hot, aren't I?"

"Now, there you go."

"What? I was only, agreeing with your assessment. Seriously, though- - why are you fighting so hard for this?"

"You're deflecting. It's not about me. It's about you opening up to the idea of experiencing new things."

"Mmhmm, I'll figure out your angle, eventually. You probably think he likes me, and you'll be able to hang by the pool of our mansion."

"Oh, so now you and Sam are a couple in this fantasy? Interesting!"

"Shut up, San! I don't even know this man, and he's been dominating our conversations. I'm never going to see him again. How about we stop this insanity and get inside?" Mercedes suggested pulling the door of the restaurant open.

"Fine, but Tell me it didn't warm your heart to see him with those little other abled children?"

"Okay, I'll admit that was adorable, but what does that have to do with me?"

Santana didn't have a chance to respond before the rush of friends descended on Mercedes like a crowd of children on Santa. "Cedes, MercyJay, Mercy," they called out simultaneously. They surround her each fighting to be the first to secure their hug.

"The hell- Guess, I may as well eat these appetizers. No one will know since I'm obviously, invisible. Mmm, Frittatas," Santana added dramatizing the action.

"Aww, is our Satanica jealous?" Sebastian asked moving in for a hug.

"If you touch me, I will bite you," she replied before stuffing another Frittata into her mouth.

"Now, play nice, Santana. The boys didn't mean it. Did you guys?"

"No," they sing in unison, but Santana doesn't budge.

"Awww, does somebody need hugs and kisses from their Mercy?" She could see the smile just underneath the hard facade Santana worked diligently to conceal. Mercedes hugs her tightly pressing a kiss to her cheek."

"Oh, so, you'll accept kisses and hugs from Cedes?" Sebastian teases.

"Yep, she smells of sweet licorice, and you reek of desperate boy!"

Kurt and Blaine gasped.

"Santana Esmeralda Lopez, you apologize, this instant," Mercedes demanded in a motherly tone.

Santana jumped to attention expecting her mother to pop from behind a wall with her spanking sandal. The table erupted in laughter at the frightened look on her face.

"You're all talk," Sebastian added sipping his Orange Juice.

"Shut up before I-" She paused when Mercedes gave her the sad puppy face. "Okay, okay. I'll stop. You're lucky that pouty lip does things to me. Now, what have you three bums been up to?"

The group of friends ate in noisy bliss. They shared stories all the while teasing each other with playful banter. Santana and Sebastian were starting up again when a group of loud, obnoxious young adults walked past their table.

The tall, brunette was going on about the trending topics. "Oh my God! I could die. He's super sweet." The quiet, brunette began looking in their direction and tapping her friend's shoulder. She leaned in speaking in a hushed tone. Suddenly all the heads whip in their direction. "OH MY GOD! IT IS HER!" They pounce on Mercedes like a lioness on a gazelle. "You're so pretty. Can we take a picture with you? They turn around snapping photos without any acknowledgment from Mercedes. "This is going on IG."

"How do I look?" The blonde-haired rude child asked.

"You look good. Don't forget to tag #Mysterybae!"

"They must be on drugs," Kurt exclaimed.

"Definitely," Blaine and Sebastian second.

"I will fight a child," Santana added.

These kids have no home training, Mercedes thought unable to speak through her astonishment. She was at the end of her rope, about ready to murder one of these demonic spawns of Satan. "What the hell is going on? Don't touch my hair! Have you completely lost your mind? And, who is a mystery, bae?"

The girls were too busy with their devices, editing photos and tags, to care about Mercedes comfort or questions, so she snatched the phones from their hands. They reached to grab them, but she quickly tucked them in her shirt. "Now, SIT," she demanded.

"You can't tell us what to do! Now, give me my phone back!" The tall, brunette demanded.

"You can't go around accosting people, taking their photos, posting them on the internet, and being plain rude and obnoxious, but you did it. Didn't you?"

"You tell them Cedes."

"Hush." She demands, and the gallery goes quiet. She points a finger at the quiet, brunette, "Tell me, what are these two yapping about? Who is mysterybae?"

"Well, an artist by the name of Sam Evans shared a story on Instagram and Twitter about a missed connection with a mystery lady. He painted a portrait asking her to reach out to him. The video went viral, and today, he posted this." She pulls up her phone to show Mercedes a video of Sam painting and singing to the tunes of 'Just My imagination.' She would have thought it funny if this were a tv show, but this was real life, and he had lost his marbles. A vein nearly popped as her eye squinted in fury. She was hot under the collar. Why couldn't this man move on like a regular person? Extra for no reason, she thought. She handed the girl back her phone and pulled the two from her shirt. "This is what's going to happen. I will return your phones. You will immediately delete my photos, then leave my sight. " They quickly did as she said then brushed past her.

"I'm still tweeting about this. Plus, my phone automatically saves photos," the blonde bragged running from the establishment.

"Don't even say it," She demanded as she took her seat, stewing. Then she abruptly grabbed her purse ready to leave.

"Where are you going?" They asked in unison.

"Don't run off," Santana added.

"Oh, I'm not running anywhere except over to Mr. Evans place of business. Let's see how he likes his life being disturbed."


	5. How Dare He

**A/N: Thanks for the favorites, follows, and reviews. It means a bunch. I hope you enjoy the next chapter. Forgive errors.**

 **Sidenote: Please pray for my family. My father is very ill. I would be eternally grateful. Thanks again!**

* * *

Santana, Kurt, Blaine, and Sebastian sat stunned by Mercedes declaration. "That's right, I'm going, and none of You try and stop me." They looked around at each other bewildered. "Who's trying to stop her?" Blaine mouthed. Santana shrugged and answered with an inaudible, "I don't know."

Mercedes continues her rant mainly consisting of oohs or how dare he.

Kurt chimes in with, "BUT-" The T was barely pronounced before Santana kicked him hard under the table turning a menacing stare upon him.

"Damn, Santana."

"Shut up, Hummel."

Mercedes was halfway out the door when she turned around, "Why aren't you trying to stop me?" She paused letting the realization settle on her. "I'm playing into his hands. He wants me to come down there."

"Damn! You're too smart for your own, good," Santana said.

In the midst of Mercedes inner battle, the waitress had cleared the table and the check, so they got up following her out of the restaurant.

"Let's all go down there to put this Sam Evans in his place." Kurt licks his lips following the statement and Sebastian side-eyes him hard. "What?"

Sebastian shakes his head, "What are we going to do with you?"

"Look, I think you should go down there and tell him about himself. How dare he put your face on the internet without your permission?!" Santana goads.

"Exactly," Blaine chimes.

"Yeah. This Sam needs to be taught a thing or two about tack!" Sebastian adds.

"And, Class," Kurt says.

"How DARE HE?!" They exclaim in unison as though rehearsed.

"Right! How dare he?" Mercedes repeats as she stalks in the direction of her car with her friends on her tail.

* * *

Sam's DM was on fire, definitely, a crash and burn situation. He drops his phone on top of Rachel's desk without preamble.

"What the devil is this? Oh my GOD! I didn't need to see that! She ought to be ashamed." Rachel tossed the phone away from her in disgust. "It's what you get, Sam."

"Really- you too? Alexa just called. She needs to see me right away, she says."

"Speak of the devil," Rachel says before hiding behind a manila folder.

Even though Alexa stood 5'5, her intimidating presence made her seem over 6 feet. She walked in a way that conveys her pretty face, slim curves, were not the assets she used to get things done. Before long, she was standing before him phone in a handbag in the other.

"Alexaaaa- Did you cut your hair again? I love the way that pixie cut frames your face."

Rachel snickers behind the folder thinking, Sam must have a death wish."

"I'm glad you have ALL this free time, performing hair length checks, must mean you have finished your collection. Where is it, Samuel?!"

The way she said his name always took him back to when he was a 14-year-old boy running amuck; she scolded him for his wayward behavior then and now. "No, ma'am," he says forgetting he's grown now, and her scare tactics shouldn't hold the same weight."

"You're working on apologies, but not working on any art that I can market. What am I supposed to do with this? Hmm?! You don't paint pretty girls in the park- This is not what anyone is expecting from Sam Evans," Alexa scolds.

"It's the courtyard," Sam rebuttals.

"Whatever! Who is she?" She paused waiting for an answer but received silence. He had such a dopey look on his face she almost cracked a smile. "Remember this day, Samuel! Remember," she says snapping a photo and stalking towards the door, nearly trampling Rachel.

"Back up, Wendy. We aren't a scoop for hot topics." She whirls around on a tirade from being ignored. "Why are we in podunk, Lima?"

"Not today, Satan!" Rachel mutters.

"Why are we here, Samuel?"

"I still feel like this is the place. This is where I'll get that spark."

"Not Paris, or even California, but Lima, freaking Ohio. Really- there's nothing here except trash and losers. Let's pack up, go somewhere with fresh air. You can paint by the ocean-"

"No," he interrupts finding his voice. Effectively, wiping that dreamy look from her face. We stay. I'm close. I can feel it."

"Then get to work. Stop chasing tail and pick up a brush. Do we need to walk the aisles of Blick's to get the juices flowing?"

"Honestly, I don't think it'll help. There's only one cure for this ailment. I may never find it."

Her hard exterior melted a bit. "You're really, struggling with this? Come on, let's get out of here. I'll take you to lunch, and you can tell me all about it."

"I'd like that," he said grabbing his phone off Rachel's desk. "I'll be back soon. Keep a check on those messages for me, just in case. You have the helm." Sam gave his best Captain Picard impression.

"Aye, Sir," Rachel replies.

"Yeah, yeah," Alexa says, putting an end to their bantering.

It had been difficult for Alexa being around watching Sam grow up. In a lot of ways, she still saw him as the kid she needed to manage, instead of the adult that needed a listening ear. She'd dismissed a lot of things as goofing off, threatening his bottom with a spanking, or worse, calling Mary, his mother, to do it. He'd usually got in line, buckled down, reworked his process, but lately he couldn't shake the slump. Whatever it was, she'd get to the bottom of it, or call in reinforcements.

* * *

Mercedes was surprised by the level of ease it took to get to Sam. She would think someone of his stature would warrant a ton of red tape before they could discuss meetings, so she bypassed that headache. She'd strode up to the desk with the confidence of a lawyer walking into the courtroom to argue a slam dunk case. "I have an appointment with Sam Evans."

"ID!" The clerk demanded. Mercedes took a deep breath handing it over. The clerk scans the ID and inputs some information into the computer before handing it back to her. "Take the elevators to the right up to the 12th floor. Have a great day!"

"Thanks, you too." She made a beeline to the elevators pressing furiously as not to give them time to figure out she doesn't belong in the building. Once on the elevator, she exhaled shaking out her nerves. A small part of her wished she had allowed her friends to accompany her. Instead, she had given a huge speech about her being grown and handling business as such. She practiced her spiel. "Stop with the messages. I won't work for you. You cannot use my face. Leave me be." Maybe she would throw in a Hell to the No for good measure. Whatever it takes to get through to him she planned to do it because she refused to repeat this trip.

The elevator was slow moving and stopped on every floor, whether there was someone there or not. By the time she reached the top, she had exhausted herself practicing. If it would take this long to get up, how long would it take to get back down? Maybe I should just, leave now while there's still time. Yeah! She hit the ground floor button and waited for the doors to close. After thirty seconds, she hit the button a second time but still no response. She stepped out expecting someone to be playing games, but there was no one there. Having had enough, she stepped down to another car pressing the down button. It took a minute to register the doors closing on the elevator she'd previously occupied. She ran tapping furiously on the button, but the doors closed and remained shut.

She kicked the elevator and unrelentingly swatted it with her purse.

"What'd that elevator ever do to ya?" A hint of southern twang slipping through.

Mercedes felt a flutter in her belly, and she momentarily stopped breathing. She could tell he was smiling, enjoying this even. Finally, she exhales turning around to face him.

"You-" Her speech faltered a bit as she met his warm eyes. They were eagerly searching her face, and she felt he could see to her very soul.

"Hello, I'm Sam Evans. May I ask your name?" He held out his hand to her hoping she extend the greeting.

"Cut it," She demands with an inclination that he already knows her name. "Am I locked in here?"

"No, you most certainly are not." He pressed the button, and the elevator's door opened immediately. He steps inside holding the doors, "Come, I'll ride down with you."

"Oh, hell to the no! Stop with all the dramatics. I know you or someone here was playing with this elevator, but I didn't come here for that."

"Why did you come?"

"I came because you plastered my face all over the internet. Got me accosted by rude teens who wouldn't know boundaries if it clubbed them over the head. Touching my hair! I nearly went to jail!"

He chuckled a bit, thinking this pint-size spitfire was adorable.

"You think this is funny?"

"No, I don't!"

"Why didn't you hire a P. I.?"

"I did. The world is my P. I."

"Okay, bye!" She said rushing towards the stairs entrance door.

"What! I'm sorry! Please!"

"Please what?" She asked walking over to stand in front of the office with her arms folded across her chest and a glint of satisfaction twinkling in her eyes.

He registers her enjoyment as he continues groveling. "Please stay. Don't go. I used to have manners. Allow me a chance at a proper apology." He turns on the charm in those green eyes, but she holds onto a shred of her resolve.

"Apologize for?" She starts indicating he should pick up where she left off.

"For being inconsiderate. I didn't think about the downside of things. Sorry for touching your hand without permission, and for being a bumbling mess."

"Mhmm, selfish, arrogant-"

"Whoa!"

"Rude, pestering, and- - and- - and- - talented, brilliant man."

She rushes across the room without another word, and he nearly cracks his neck trying to follow her retreating frame, all the while confused by the sudden singing of his praises. Never in a million years would he have guessed those words would follow her tongue lashing.

Mercedes stops in front of her portrait, "It's like looking in the mirror."

He was afraid to speak lest he would break the spell the painting cast on her. She wasn't running away from him, and he wanted desperately to keep it that way. He moves in for a closer look feeling a sense of pride, accomplishment as she marvels over the painting feeling the textures. She turned around almost bumping into Sam. "You have an issue with personal space?"

"Only when it comes to you. Every time I'm near you, my common sense seems to fly out the window."

"I wonder why that is?"

"I don't know. You enchant me, spark my creative energy, and I find myself wanting to be closer to the source."

"That's a little heavy for someone you've barely met."

"That may be so, but I assure you it's strictly in an artistic way. I'm not trying to be forward or force anything romantic on you. I apologize for my seemingly predatory behavior." He seemed put out by how he was being perceived.

She turned back to the painting staring longingly at it.

After a spell, he broke the silence, "I think you should have it." There was another long pause, and he called out to her, "Mercedes."

"Huh," she answered spinning around to meet his gaze.

"I said, you should take it with you. It's my apology gift to you."

"No, I couldn't."

"How can you refuse a gift?" He asks with a mostly pretend mystified expression.

"Wait a minute. You said my name!"

"No, I didn't!" He denies, vehemently.

"Liar, I knew it."

"Okay, but I only found out before I came up. I was on my way back from lunch when security called to say my mystery woman had shown up." She gestures to the elevators, and he answers, "I was afraid you would leave if I wasn't here, so we had the doors open every floor. I'm sorry for the deception. It won't happen again. I needed this opportunity to not only apologize but to beg you to work with me. Will you take the job?"

"I wanted a relaxing summer."

"It can and will be! I'm a super chill employer."

"I wanna sleep in late."

"We can work afternoons or nights."

"I don't know, Sam!"

"Please, Mercedes. I'm all out of options. There's only one woman for the job, and that's you! You would be saving my career."

"Why? I'm sure there are a thousand rexi-models that could pose for you. Some I doubt you would have to pay. I guess I'm asking, why me?"

Sam took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "There are more than a thousand, and none of them hold a candle to you. I have a dream-"

"I don't have to listen to this- I'm leaving, Sam."

His eyes shot open, "No, seriously. It started with a dream."

"Oh," she said before nibbling on her bottom lip motioning for him to continue.

"There's a vision of this otherworldly beauty. She whispers to me, appealing to the creator in me to tell her story. Line by line, colors, texture, it all gives insight to her incredible, complex tale." He steps forward staring deeply into her eyes. "What secrets do you hide behind those gorgeous eyes?"

He was intense, but for some reason, it no longer bothered her. She was lost in his gaze, hearing but not listening, too busy following the movement of his lips. They'd stop moving now, turned up into a lopsided grin. She'd missed something, but the what was unknown. She decided to go with a generic, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"So, you'll do it?"

She fixed her mouth to say no but heard a voice sounding like hers say, "Yes!" What the hell! I mean, "Yes!" Have I been bewitched?! I am declining this offer. "I'll do it!" She slapped her hand over her mouth running from the room.


End file.
